What will be posted for #500?

Q: About how many posts does this make?
A: Just over five hundred.

Once upon a time, from a close friend was working towards his Masters of Professional Writing at the University of Southern California, I was showed an odd Xyanga site that led to my first blog. That was sometime in 2004, and I think I quit less than a month after that started. Sometime in 2005, when I was between my last employer and my current, I started a second attempt at blogging that only lasted one post.

Then on January 26, 2006 I started blogging on MySpace. My first post was my infamous face breaking story from November 22, 2005 and my second was the story of my Apprentice Casting Call (the lone post from my second attempt at blogging). Amazingly, I stuck with it this time. I posted 300 nonsensical posts up until my exodus from MySpace to Facebook shortly before my 30th Birthday in January 2009. View de TQ (http://blogs.myspace.com/aquinasmu) was officially shut down and I began posting through Blogger, which imports automatically to my Facebook.

This is my 200th post of Today's Quiz (http://todaysquiz.blogspot.com/), making 500 total. However, I should declare that the number is inflated due to lazy re-posting of older stories and the occasional foray into "live blogging" (for example, last summer's San Francisco vacation travelogue).

Speaking of re-posting, I've decided to share the previously mentioned Apprentice Casting Call story because I haven't shared this story on Facebook yet, so here it is... Thanks everybody for reading (although I never know which ones of you do), and I really appreciate the random acts of feedback and encouragement.

(The following is the un-abridged journal of my attempt to get on The Apprentice. This took place on 2/19/2005, when I was between jobs)

I was planning the whole routine a week in advance... The night before I purposely slept only two hours, which allowed me to hit sleep hard at 3 pm.

3 PM: Fall asleep

12 AM: Awake

1 AM: Meal

2 AM: Shower/Prep

3 AM: Depart from home

3:30 AM: Arrive at CTA station River Road

4:15 AM: Streets of Chicago

It was the only time Chicago felt like Milwaukee. There was NOBODY on the streets. You look in all directions and nobody is around. I stood at the corner of Michigan and Wacker - looking at the Wrigley building and thought of er scenes - nobody was in eyeshot.

4:30 AM: Arrive at NBC Tower

Walking up to it from its west side, I don't see anybody, I walk around to its east side and see about 75 people already in line. I was expecting about 200. Thankfully my spot was near a garden box and I had a place to sit.

It was rather cold, but with the exception of my frozen feet, I was fine.

Characters:

Martha: Not there for "The Donald." I learn that The Apprentice Open Casting Call is for BOTH the Trump Apprentice and the new Martha Stewart The Apprentice. Martha is in her early fifties, a smoker, and very outgoing and funny. She and her friend, Kim, drove down from Detroit for this special event. They arrived about fifteen minutes before me.

Linda (Martha wannabe) - 2nd grade gym teacher - non-descript but nice

Brian: (Trump candidate). A non-descript young man. He's 23, already married, already in a job he hates. Went to Indiana State University and lives in downtown Arlington Heights. He didn't have anything to add to any conversation. He was wearing dress shoes and pants, a button down shirt and tie. His leather jacket was not doing the warmth job and was bitching a lot. Martha and Kim finally gave him one of their MANY blankets to warm him. Martha and Kim also had gallons of water and their own fold out chairs.

The Mafia: (All Trumps). Three people who all knew each other arrived about fifteen minutes after I did. All very well dressed. One girl and two men, none of them over the age of 28. Talked a lot of business... Boring

Mafia-attachment (Trump). A 40 year old woman (she said her age) that didn't look a day over 30. This very well dressed Wrigley woman (I know because she wouldn't shut up about how close she lives to the park) bonded with the Mafia and participated in their many runs to Starbucks. Thankfully she steered the all business talk to reality TV and it made my conversations with the mafia worthwhile.

Madison Morons (1/2 Trump, 1/2 clueless). Bryan and Sidney. These two young twentysomethings (not college age) were making a weekend out of this deal. They arrived in the city last night and got a hotel room. I don't know when they got there because the 23 year old Brian was holding their space since before I got there. Bryan was wearing business casual sweater and kakis and Sydney was wearing jeans. I must've personally saw Sidney spend 50 dollars in the form of three different cab rides to and from our line and Starbucks goods. Supposedly he went back to his hotel room on two occasions to warm up. I think he went to his hotel room to smoke up. Sidney did not have an application and therefore was just there for the ride.

Dennis (aka Cowboy - due to the fedora he wore). This guy was an all-star. Most enjoyable person of the experience. This guy worked the line like an Al Roker wannabe. He must've walked up and down the line - telling us our place and how many people were behind us ten times. He was wearing Jeans and when Martha asked him why he's not wearing a suit he said, "I'm a Martha. I can't help it?" I really hope this guy makes the Martha Stewart show.

ME: I'm wearing black shoes, gray pants, and my black "Employee of the Month" shirt. Most people thought I was an NBC plant because of my casual attire and because I was participating in about three conversations at the same time. I just told them that I didn't want to be a lemming and wear a suit like everybody else.

7 AM: On one of Dennis' frequent trips he tells us of the information he got when he first got here. Dennis got here at 6:30 PM last night and is #2 in line overall. He tells us that the WRISTBANDS won't be handed out until 9 am (an hour later than I thought) and that the interviews will start at 10. He also said that they are only handing out 200 wristbands.

The 200 number shocked me because I thought there would be more - I was very confident I was in the first 100, so it didn't worry me.

9:15 AM: The hot apprentice girls (I call'em hot because every body with an Apprentice badge was overtly attractive) pass out the WRISTBANDS. I've been typing that in all caps because it was THE hot word of the past 3 hours. It was all about the WRISTBANDS! We gotta get the WRISTBANDS!

10:20 AM: The doors open and we enter the NBC Tower lobby - we wait in the long serpentine line that usually holds the Jerry Springer crowd. There is a large metal detector at the end of the line. As soon as we gather in line indoors myself, Martha, Kim and Linda peel off our layers and get themselves ready. I stash my sweatshirt and jacket in the backpack to have a full display of my Employee of the Month shirt. It got many compliments and smiles and several conversations with the hot apprentice girls. Martha and Kim did a near 180 of appearance as they adorned their Martha type Armour of hand crafted jewelry and crazy sweater knit combinations.

11:00 AM: After an elevator ride and a couple more lines to stand through I'm brought into a room about the size of a Marquette classroom. There are three large tables and I sit at one of them. It is a large square with me and 11 other people around three sides and a casting director woman at the fourth side. All the people described above are at the table (with the exception of Sydney who got his application-less ass bounced at the table). Even the "Marthas" are at the table.

The casting director asks us to say our name, age, where we are from and what we do.

After two blah blah forgettable introductions it is my turn,

"Hey my name is Tom, I'm 26, unemployed, and live in my parents' basement."

Huge laughter from everybody including the casting director.

The first question is asked - it is not important what it was, what is important is that 11 other voices just amp up and give their answer. No one is heard and I just sit back and make my comment at the very end when everybody finally shut up at the casting director's request.

The casting director then started a "one at a time around the table policy" Another meaningless question is asked and there are no memorable responses. Actually, the question was about if you would tell a prospective employer if you were having a baby during an interview. I said that if I was asked that question I would walk out, for it is unethical. I've been in intrusive situations and I wouldn't want that again. Somebody retorted, "so what if you boss asked you know if you wanted kids, would you walk away from the job." I quickly responded with my arm up on the table and a game show like voice, "did I mention I was unemployed?" (more laughter).

The last question is to name somebody at the table (not yourself and not the casting director) who would be the project manager of the group. nobody said me, which pissed me off. Three people said Linda, and I didn't know what the hell these people were thinking of that dumb gym teacher martha'wannabe. Looking back, I shouldn't have taken the guy that made the smart-alecky comment about my boss. I should've picked one of the Marathas because I'm not competing with them. However, I picked the other guy because he was also wearing a t-shirt - so I wanted to compliment him on that, and draw more attention to my own shirt - which got me more laughs. Someone in the group actually called me, "what do you think employee of the month" during this table session.

11:30 AM: I walk out of the NBC Tower, walk back to the CTA station, drive back home in my car.

12:30 PM: Arrive back home Ive yet to be called back.


EPILOGUE:
It's been years since I've read that story myself, and some of the memories are still vivid today:
My jokes KILLED. Seriously, I know I'm being horribly immodest, but I couldn't have scripted my antidotes any better. It was clutch time and I performed smashingly. It's almost insulting how I wasn't called back. Writing that last sentence has just given me a moment of clarity: Is this how rejected American Idol contestants feel? And do I look just as bad?

As long as I'm piling on, let the record show that the Trump show went downhill with the season in which "they didn't pick TQ." And that Martha show only lasted one season. I'll blame the incarceration on the death of the Martha vehicle, but I long since said that the producers made a bad move not putting me on that show, and it suffered the just consequences.

Feel free to remind me that nobody's life is "worse" for having been rejected by a Reality TV Show.

How cynical can you be on Valentine's Day?

Q: When does this story take place?
A: Ten years ago!

Yesterday I was digging through the archives of the now defunct "View de TQ" on MySpace to find a story I wanted to re-post. In that process, I came across the following "gem." Don't forget: It doesn't have to be good to be a classic.

Also, sorry to have posted back-to-back "Best of the Blogs" examples:

Wednesday, February 14, 2007 A true story from memory (from six years past) As I lie in difficulty getting to sleep, clearing my mind, a memory from the Winter of 2000 crept into my mind. It certainly would have been blogged about if I had such the medium back in the day. History of Christian Thought was one of my more difficult classes as Marquette University. It was a third-level theology class. I needed 9 credits in Theology to attain my degree, but you could not just churn out three easy classes. This class was a requirement, and you had to pass a 2nd level course to get into one of this variety. However, it was one of my more rewarding classes. And I wouldn't mind to go back and audit the class (if I could get the same professor and the bank account to afford me the opportunity to take classes for the sole purpose of knowledge). The entire class was about the process of how the Catholic Catechism was founded. How after Jesus died all the Gnostics and Prophets and Politicians argued and debated their way though councils and movements. How Ignatius earned his street cred and why Augustine would be a first round pick in any Fantasy Theologian League. It's too bad that millions upon millions have read The DiVinci Code without having a class like History of Christian Thought to round out the edges. However none of the class' merits remain as my most vivid memory. Sadly the magnificent conversion of Augustine of Hippo by Ambrose of Milan will take a back seat to something I casually overheard one day in early December 2000. A girl was talking to the girl next to her a row behind me. The girls were two and three seats over from my position in the room's theoretical X-Axis. The girl farthest away from me was telling her, I'm guessing close friend, of a boy she met a couple days earlier at a party up on the East Side. I should note that the East Side (apart from downtown, where the campus of Marquette lies) is home to the more hip and cool people. I've often told others that the East Side is where young people drink coffee because they actually like it and where couples go to watch foreign independent films of young French boys in love. I should probably stop referring to the person telling the following story as a girl, and as the person she met as a boy because this is a tale of hardcore sex with strangers. By the way, Happy Valentine's Day everybody. It became painfully obvious that the people behind me were talking about sex. Also obvious was the confirmation in my mind that women hold no secrets between themselves - and transmit their secrets in code incapable of deciphering by one with a Y chromosome. Most importantly, this was all occurring in the moments before class began - causing much background noise of entering classmates and backpack opening. Of the conversation that I was able to understand, very little was of audible-enough levels. The mere telling of this story in a classroom surrounded by strangers baffled me. Especially saying the following two comments loud enough to be blogged about a lifetime later: "You know, (chokes back a laugh), he really wasn't that big." "But (extended pause) the next morning I felt like I had rode a horse." Then class began. 1:18 AM Powered by English Albanian Arabic Bulgarian Catalan Chinese Croatian Czech Danish Dutch Estonian Filipino Finnish French Galician German Greek Hebrew Hindi Hungarian Indonesian Italian Japanese Korean Latvian Lithuanian Maltese Norwegian Polish Portuguese Romanian Russian Serbian Slovak Slovenian Spanish Swedish Thai Turkish Ukrainian Vietnamese

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Do you have any Valentine's Day tradtions?

Q: How many years ago is this post?
A: 4 years.

(Copied from the now defunct "View de TQ" blog from the ol'MySpace)

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Valentine's Day: TQ Style I saw VD comming from far away. Preparation was needed. The following needed to be accomplished: -Engineer a valentine's day feat which needs to result in a story -Provide support to those that actually like this day, but abhor it currently due to no significant other -Figure out an ironic way to spend the night in order to have a good response to "what did you do for Valentine's Day?" -Stay strong. The first two were accomplished from an idea generated in one of my many sleepless nights. I wanted to buy those cheap ass cardboad valentines (the kind first graders pass out) and give them to coworkers. Standing in front of a selection of these cards at a Walgreens I attempted to quickly calculate how many I needed. This creates a big problem because imbedded in this answer is the pivital, "Who gets one and who doesn't get one." The more I thought about it, I realized there was a parabolic relationship betwen the quantity of cards distributed and the success of the gesture/humor. I worked very late the night before, allowing nearly everybody in the building to leave as I made my rounds dropping off Simpons and Transfomers themed valentines Day cards. I decided to give a card to ANYBODY that has said hello to me in the month of February. Regardless of age, relationship status, sex or sexual orientation that coworker got a card. I walked into work very nervously on Valentine's Day. The act, of this magnitude, was going to either be a huge success or paint me as a complete wackjob. I even gave one to the Executive Vice President of the company. The boss of my boss' boss. Final count: 89 cards distributed. It was remarkable how many e-mails I received from women who said it really made them smile and how it made them think of how the holiday was when they were schoolchildren. (Back to the time before the day got whored out to the loved and attached, sending independants into exile). Some of these are still posted on people's desks. This makes me feel nervous because with all these simpsons cards in display - ones who didn't receive one could feel left out. The feeling of being left out was one of the emotions I was attempting to conquer with this action. As the day was ending, and more women were receiving quazi-gadens in vases - i could feel the tide turning in my fellow solo acts. I usually just said quietly to them... "Now what would you rather have: THAT guy who sent those as YOUR boyfriend? Or me as a friend, which includes an old skool throwback card from me?" How did I spend my Valentine's Day evening? Watching a movie with a number two in it - signifing the day... and a movie that sums up how I feel about the day: Saw 2. This was also planned in advance - moving Saw 2 to the top of my queue list in order for it to arrive the day it was released to DVD (2/14/2006). Finally, I did make sure to call my sister to wish her a happy valentine's day. She is also, "between relationships" and the most devout reader of this blog... Thanks Mo - we stick together. Almost all days have the same M.O. for me. It's not if you win or lose, its if there's a decent story to tell. In that sense... let me say, "Yes, I had a good Valentine's Day." 8:10 PM Powered by English Albanian Arabic Bulgarian Catalan Chinese Croatian Czech Danish Dutch Estonian Filipino Finnish French Galician German Greek Hebrew Hindi Hungarian Indonesian Italian Japanese Korean Latvian Lithuanian Maltese Norwegian Polish Portuguese Romanian Russian Serbian Slovak Slovenian Spanish Swedish Thai Turkish Ukrainian Vietnamese

EPILOGUE:
I handed out paper cards for two more years after that.
The past two years, I've just sent out e-card.
Why did I stop the old school tradition?
It gets too much to handle when, by that third year, it took me nearly two hours to hand out over 200 damn little envelopes.

January 24, 2009 (30 years later)

All right sports fans.
There it is:
The official birthday party invitation.

If you're reading this, feel free to partake in the celebration.
I'm not exaggerating here, I've not been big on birthday parties.
The last one was a bowling themed deal back in the 5th grade.
(yes, that means I did not make a big deal of my 21st mainly because almost everyone I knew was still 20, and most of those didn't drink at the time)

My 30th birthday isn't the only milestone I want to mention now.
Although, the other mentions aren't as significant:

This was my 300th blog post at 'View de TQ.'
It also marked the 3 year anniversary from when I started emptying my mind into this media/format/time waster.

It will also be known as it's final post.

I thank everybody for reading.
See you Saturday, January 24
(feel free to contact me if you want more info/specifics about the event)

The night has all the potential of being a 'Worlds Collide' situation... worthy of a George Costanza tirade.

My Mind is a Bully (disconnected thoughts in an early December)

Greetings from the aftermath of winter anarchy


Every year, on the morning following the first significant snow fall of the season, people get to work late because everyone reteaches themselves how to winter drive simultaneously.

For me, the tardiness is more a function of the below:


I was woken up this morning to the sound of frenetic windshield ice scraping.
The man was on a mission, quite a remarkable effort.
Watching it through my window, I was impressed.
Which was the wrong response - it should've made me hurry my ass into the shower and try to shave some time off my routine that I needed to de-ice Chick Magnet 2.0

By the way, I should have allowed the initial name given by my friend for my newer car: "pony"
(Being short-sighted, I didn't want it linked to a poorly written short story from our Northwestern writing class)

I haven't worn my winter jacket this season yet.
If it dips below 30 tomorrow, I think I'll finally cave.
It's not because I have an undue amount of self-gratification derived from my tolerance to cold weather.

I just know it will get colder, very much so.
Logic is probably being taken to illogical levels here, but follow me:
You first put on a jacket when it gets - what - below 50?
So if you upgrade to your winter jacket at below 30 - what do you do when it gets to single digits?
Makes me feel like I've painted myself into an outerwear corner.
So I've been wearing my "fall" jacket with ample scarf and under layering.

---

I think I bowled a new personal best last Friday

Still debating between buying a couch or buying "the HD lifestyle"


'Tis the season for free couches - actually... They're readily availability, easily acquirable, yet it's usually a plan painfully executed.

My two week hiatus has officially ended.
Here's the girl I'm now spending money on:


My dad had a great line this weekend, "I don't trust a skinny chef."

I'll give any show on FX a fighting chance:


I'd really like to see them take a crack at that 90210 genre.
They should base a show on that Amish tradition of letting the kids run-a-mok.
I'd watch that, wouldn't you?
--

On the drive home, I had a disturbing thought.
An extended metaphor - but of very poor quality.
It was was the personification of my mind, specifically my inner monologue, as a bully.
But not the classical bully (for example, the one from A Christmas Story)


More like a low level - high school burnout bully.
The kind that just below the mean in overall popularity.
One that can't pick on the lower strata (the chosen prey for the larger predators).
Picking on just one level down on the caste system.
That's how I think of my mind at times.
I picture it licking it's finger and holding it it a hair's length from my face.
Annoying me.
Baiting me.
Forcing me to pay attention to fruitless topics.
For example: the idea of me eloping with a stranger in Las Vegas in three weeks.

Yeah, I'll admit that I've spent at least one full hour contemplating this.
What if I get married in three weeks?
Seriously, could it be that bad?
Your reading this from someone who has:
-gone to speed dating
-dated strangers (and strange women)
-sold out my soul for a laugh
-dated in the confines of the politic
-dated trying to be more than honest

I've said it before, and it won't be the last time I say it - it's exhausting.

Why not skip about 12 to 15 steps and elope.
I find someone in Vegas, we hit it off, we've got something in common
hitch it up
Get into the quagmire together - let's work it out.

Of course these are mainly fantasies that involve some celebrity.
For example: Erika Christensen


Could I have enough small town charm to get someone into a bad decision?
I'd be lying if I said I've never done it in my disastrous past (never on that large of a scale admittedly)

It's not a coincidence that these thoughts are running concurrently with release of the new Britney Spears album. We all know I'm a fan of her's.

Not so much musically (although I'll defend her song "Toxic" and and to a lesser extend "Stronger" vehemently)


That kid named Jason Alexander married her in Las Vegas.
That kid signed the annulment.
That kid is nowhere to be found today.
That kid, I have to think, knew what he gave up.

How much would Erika Christensen's PR team pay me to dissolve our marriage?
Could they even produce a sum large enough?

But it doesn't need to be a Hollywood D-lister.
Normal people could benefit.
Just in time for the DVD release:


"Okay, I'll be the tall dopey guy - you've got blonde hair - where's the chapel"
"We've got less than one month before the Inauguration - there's a gap in the news cycle - we'll be in the clear before you know it"

So my heart tries to fight back this bully mindwave.
I won't be clubbing at Pure.
I'll have to find my future ex-wife at the In-N-Out.
That ultra sexy poker playing female
That one that also flew out by herself
That one that's single (not rebounded)
That one that only exists in the figment of my imagination.
(The dream involves knowingly lay down threes full to her quad deuces)

I do have two plane rides ahead of me.
I once picked up a girl on the way to Reno.
Sounds like a Johnny Cash lyric, but it's the truth.
Going out to a family wedding in Lake Tahoe, our Aunt picked the same flight out.
I volunteered to switch seats - so she could talk to her brother (my father) on the way.
That's when I met that girl who made me set up an account on Friendster.
We traded e-mails over the course of a year or two.
Saw her again when she interviewed for an internship at a Midwestern University.
It was rather romantic... Meeting on a plane and all...
The mind bully will attempt to use that as precedent.
It's most successful attempt at coaxing me into thinking I'm romantic beyond logic.

What if my mind could devote this energy to solving the national economic crisis instead of my personal dating "slowdown." I think I'd sleep easier - It would certainly benefit you more.

How I Won my Summer Trophy

A few months ago I posted this picture with the promise that I'd tell the backing story once I received the other pictures:

Well, thanks to my friend - I have the rest of the pictures, and can now tell you how I earned the above majestic piece of hardware.

Early in the week of this story's occurrence, a big mass e-mail was sent out informing us of a couple festivals happening in this upcoming weekend. One of them was Guinness Oyster Fest. Not being a fan of that beer from Ireland (and a lesser fan of oysters) I had not planned on joining these friends.

Then, on the day these pictures were taken, my friend calls me to see if I'm going to the Fest. I told him no. He then told me that one of the events was a trivia contest for a favorite show of ours: It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. He holds up the phone to allow me to hear the show's theme song being pumped over the speaker system. Lastly, he informs me that the top prize is a golden dumpster baby trophy.

(Fast forward about five or so hours. I've arrived at the block party, and have taken my place on the stage)

Fans of the show will recognize how this stage is a very close replica to the show. Specifically, the interior of "Paddy's Pub" where the majority of the show's scenes are set.

We receive a few instructions from the host of the game show:

Here I would like to note why I'm wearing sunglasses in all these pictures:

There was a video screen used to show clips, and present the multiple choice options for the questions that needed them. My sunglasses are prescription, and I needed to make sure I could see everything clearly.

Against what popular opinion may say, they were not for stealing glances at the show's host:

I got off to a quick lead, buzzing in quickly:

I was feeling very confident in my knowledge in the show.


There were penalties for incorrect answers, so I decided to take my foot off the gas a little.


The competition inched closer, and I started to wonder if I was going to lose it.


But thankfully, I prevailed. In the below picture I celebrated by dancing "the elbow dance" made famous in the show's season 3 "Dance Off" finale:


I don't remember any of the specific questions anymore, but I doubt anybody reading this would want to hear those anyways if I did remember. The main thing is that I won this trophy. I bought the sucker home, where it still is today.

Displayed in a highly visible location in my condo.
However, it gains more creepy looks than respect.
But it makes me happy.
And getting the above pictures made my day.

My Father is "pissed off: (his words!)

Last night, Wednesday, I called home.
Their phone rang just before 8 pm.
Of course, after my Dad answered, I asked if I should apologize for waking him up.
He's known to go to bed very early.

He was wide awake.
He also said, "I'm pisssed."
To know my Father is to know he does not use profanity.
I've only heard the "F WORD" out of his mouth once (quoting someone else).

"Pissed" isn't necessarily bleepable,
Nonetheless, it is very strong language for my Father.
I told him I'd be on my way over – be there in less than a half hour.
Less than 30 minutes later, I'm there.

Here I should note that I was going to be in the neighborhood playing basketball at 9.
That I had planned to drop off some free samples from work I know he'd like.
Maraschino cherries, for use in his Brandy Manhattans, to be exact.
--Just called to see if they were awake

I walk into my parents home to see my Mom where I expect her.
Parked in front of MSNBC, successfully replacing her election thirst with the Auto-bailout
My Mom does not like the Detroit auto-execs.
She kept repeating "They just don't get it, they just don't get it"

My Father, however, was sitting by himself in the seldom used living room.
The kind of room only used when relatives visit.
Just him, reading a book.
He is not an avid reader.

He likes to check out books from the library.
Often they are returned unread.
But he had received a book earlier today
And he was burning through it in unprecedented speed.

The book is the first novel written by his brother.
He's published a few titles, in an area I'd name "non-mainstream religion"
This man, my Uncle, is a former Jesuit.
His wife, my Aunt, a former nun.

But this isn't about the Uncle and Aunt of different last names
(that last name, is an entirely different story)
This is about the novel my Dad was now reading.
Novel, by the way, as in a work of fiction.

The book, in the forward, goes out of its way to declare its fictitiousness.
Yet my Dad has told me specific names and places in this book that he knows exists.
For example, vivid details of a basement church in the Midwest.
Also, the fact that the cover picture is of my Uncle when he was still "in the cloth."

The major arc of the plot involves a man leaving the priesthood.
Including the falling in love with a woman from the religious life.
What pissed my Dad off, causing him to write a "?" near a specific paragraph.
Is when the main character's family structure was detailed.

The main character's father was an Irish Immigrant, marrying a converted Protestant.
Brother to four siblings: Two brothers, two sisters, one of each married or a priest/nun.
This perfectly explains my Father's actual family structure, with one exception.
There is no third, baby, brother… My Father's place in the family…

My Father was "pissed" that his brother left his fictional counterpart on the editor's table.
I pleaded with him that he shouldn't get upset.
The work is fiction.
And, to use his logic, the married brother could very well be him – not his late brother John.

I might have calmed him down a little, but he still has more calming to go.
"It's more symmetrical for the main character to have four siblings, not five." I theorized.
This somewhat humored my Mom – breaking briefly from her MSNBC mindset to weigh in.
"It's fiction dear." Is all that she said. It was all that needed to be said.

My Father is going to finish this book.
Then my Mother, the stalwart reader of the family, will pick it up.
I have asked to be next, and I will try to convince my sister to read it too.
Hopefully we'll have the first ever family book club between the four of us.

It will be a therapeutic exercise.
Make us all feel very enlightened.
A mature family acting like adults.
I can't wait, it's going to be an instant family memory classic.

(The official site of William Cleary: Someone who I am proud to be called his nephew)

Five to Be

Here are a few places, in no particular order or priority, that I wish to be before I die:

*The Shipyards in Bangor, Ireland (east of Belfast, where my Grandfather worked in and fled from)


*Sixth Street in Austin, Texas (specifically for the SXSW festival)


*Palos Verdes, California (somewhere along the coast of the Pacific Ocean, location shot from The Big Lebowski)


*Rio Hotel & Suites Casino (as a player in the WSOP Main Event)


*The Olympics (don't care when or where - but I think my best chance may be close)

Volleyball Ranting Backlash (a teammate's response)

For the first time in "View de TQ" history, a posting motivated another to blog a retort. I could not be more pleased. Here is the response, in it's unedited entirety. Also, for the record, I don't disagree with anything he said:

Response to a Certain Blogger!

This is to answer to a certain person's blog about Co Rec. Volleyball!

Here are all of the points that I must contest....

1- She was not just yelling at him, She was yelling at everyone.
2- He is not one of the better servers for this reason- you are only good in rec league if you get your serves over. He doesn't
3- His serve is not a topspin serve because by his definition it should drop sharply over the net, which i have NEVER seen happen on his serve. Call it what you want, its crap.
4- No natural talent
5- He got cut b/c he su cks
6- He didn't appreciate being yelled at, then he should make so many DUMB, careless, lazy mistakes. I don't appreciate missed serves.
7- The man showing up to a softball game under the influence of alcohol???? (WTF), I take great offense to that because he paints it like"this man" is the only one that does that when in fact at least 1/2 the team does that...isn't that the point????
8- He's not trying to land a spot on the London 2012 team, well thats obvious. Neither am I but I come to VB to play not to try out serves that I can't execute
9- He plays the sport for fun....PULEEEZE, lets face it, "sports fans" losing is not fun.
10- She was not attacking anyone, and definately not venomously. She was stating a fact. We gave the other team 10 free points on missed serves. Missed serves lose games. Are these not facts?
11- Lack of concentration caused his missed "serve" (Singular?? What about the other 5?)
12- Yelling out of frustration, doesn't necessasarily coincide with "aggressiveness." she was sitting on the bleachers trying to catch her breath, don't see how that could be interpretted as aggressive.
13- Serious about the league? I thought he was playing b/c it was fun....hmmmm
14- 12 year old jump serve probably isn't any worse than the lazy claimed "top spin serve" Maybe it would have landed inbounds....
15- There is one thing I can agree on....His attempt at a comeback definatley did not make me feel bad. Not one bit, and still doesn't....

Just a side note. I was yelled at for showing up at the game drunk (for the first time......ok maybe twice). Although Coed sports are for fun it is still very competitive, Mr. Blogger needs to put his purse down and grow some thicker skin.

The Cutthroat Nature of Co-Ed Volleyball

I got yelled at Monday night.
A former coworker is who yelled at me.
Shortly after we lost our co-ed volleyball game.

She, the yeller, was upset at me missing a serve.
I had missed a serve.
Normally, I have one of the better serves on the team.
(Seriously, I'm not pumping my ego here)

The only problem is: my serve is high risk / high reward.
It's an overhand topspin serve.
Cuts right over the net and dips down sharply.
Toss it up too low, it's in the net (hit it too high it screams too far out of bounds)

I used to have quite a healthy amount of natural talent on the volleyball court.
The only high school sport I can lay credit to is volleyball.
Until I got cut because there were three setters better than me and I wasn't tall enough.
(For those that didn't know me when I was a minor, I wasn't always 6'3")

But I'm veering away from my focus here...
I didn't appreciate being yelled at Monday night.
Volleyball is still fun to me.
Any effort to attempt to impede on that emotion is not welcome.

There are two people specifically on my "work teams" (softball & volleyball) that are at that "yelling competitive" level. The other yeller usually reserves his outbursts to the softball diamond.
This coming from a man that once showed up to pitch a game under the influence of alcohol.
During these softball tantrums, I keep silent.
They aren't normally pointed at me, but that's slightly odd because I'm significantly worse at softball.
Flat out said: I'm not good at softball... Easily the worst "guy" of the co-ed squad.

That could be why I'm yelled at during volleyball - the yellers expect more out of me.
But I'm not there to win a spot on the 2012 London Squad.
I'm there to have fun, playing a sport that's always been that way to me.
I'm staying at work up to 90 minutes later to go to the game direct from work.

I said something back to her Monday night.
As much as I hate to admit it, I pulled it from an interaction in fifth grade.

I said, "Well, you played perfectly."
In the spring of 1990 I teased Jeff Bott on how he was playing "Wall Ball."
Jeff Bott sullenly said something to the effect that I had to be perfect to make such a criticism.
I remember it making me feel awful.
That effect didn't translate to 2008's Skokie Park District Co-Ed Rec League Volleyball.
I walked away from her venomous comeback, quickly regretting the line I drew in the sand.

What did we learn sports fans?
Never underestimate the importance of mental toughness in your life - at all times.
Truth be told, my lack of concentration caused my missed serve.
My lack of mental toughness allowed my former coworker's aggression to act in a way I wish I didn't... (no matter how justified)

She's lucky I want to be serious in the league.
I was about to dust off the 12 year old jump serve.
Something that doesn't get better with age - it would've been an awful sight for our team.

The Unabridged, sad, tale of my misadventure into Speed Dating.

..A couple minutes shy of 2 am, I am unable to sleep.
Now is just as good of a time to relay to you the ordeal of this past Wednesday.

My anninimity already gone, I will attempt to keep it for all others involved.
(All names have been changed)

Buster and Keaton are both single like me.
Amongst our normal "guy" talk consisting of the current fantasy sport issue or recent NetFlix title viewed - we've shared our various reports from the war of single life of the modern era.

Online winking there, blind craisglist dating there, coworker allegiance misinterpretations of the past and neighbor interactions of the future...

When Buster brought up the idea of attending a Speed Dating event it was mainly presented as:
"When we've been trying all these other methods, how can we not give this a shot?"
I was on board as long as Buster and Keaton would be in - I thought (at least) I'd be writing to inform others of an entertaining story.
Keaton, I sensed, was not fully on board.
After a year of joking and batting around the idea, we all committed.

Registration was to open at 8 pm, with the event starting at 8:30.
Buster arrived at my curb at about 7:50.
Keaton was already in the car.
Buster flipped on the dome light in his car, to make sure I wasn't wearing the same shirt.
We weren't... But in all respects - we were.

The striped shirt has become a massive cliche in the single guy wardrobe.
A slow plague of striped shirt dominance has appeared in my closet.
If you were to catch me stepping out to work, you have an over 80% chance of seeing me wearing a striped shirt.
It has become the new prison uniform.

We arrive at the location: a hotel in Rosemont (another suburb known for their... well, hotels to be honest with you).
Specifically the hotel bar, where we register.
Keaton first, followed by me, and finally by Buster.
Keaton has been assigned number 35, me 36, and Buster 37.
We were all handed sticker "name tags" with just these two digits markered onto them.

Now just killing time before the "first date" we attempt to scan the crowd for a sneak preview of our future.
I see no women with nametags.
I barely see any women at all.
There's the cocktail waitress, and a young woman playing at the pool table located just beyond the limits of the bar's seating area.

This bar is classically lit - for a bar....
Which means, dimly lit.
The music playing makes me feel like I'm at a junior high dance party.
The air is cold, thanks to a propped-open (for reasons unknown ) door.

A bit of future foreshadowing:
The most attractive girl I saw was our cocktail server.
The second most attractive girl I saw was the pool player, who quickly left the area before the monstrosity began.
The most interesting person I met was one of the other MALE speed daters.

Keaton was to begin at table 7.
I was slotted for table 6.
Buster got pegged for table 5.

Although I'm loosely using the term "table" here. The respective areas were more like lounge/booth setups than chairs with a table.

GIRL 6
Carol is an assistant buyer for a large retail apparel chain.
She quickly announces her single motherdom.
She is an attractive woman, and has positive qualities.
The six minutes we spent was unspectacular.
I mentioned liked going to the city for concerts.
She recommended a pizza place nearby one of the venues owned by her friends.
After the debriefing with my two friends, it's learned that she has two children, aged 3 and 5.
Also learned is her age - six years older than I - and that she supposedly made out very well in a recent divorce.
Ladies and Gentleman, if you were a cougar hunter - I think Carol might have been your pick.
Truthfully, not for me.

GIRL 7
I'm in the lucky position of being between Buster and Keaton. I don't need to wander around looking for numbers - just follow Keaton. Also, I don't have to worry about the next guy blowing up my spot because I'm confident that Buster won't be interrupting me looking to get a head start.

Here's how ROUND 2 began, word-for-word:
TQ: Hi, my name is Tom
Eleanor: Hi, I'm El- Tom [MY ACTUAL LAST NAME!]?
TQ: (instantly looking to my name tag, confused it just has "36" and not my name) yeah.
Eleanor: I went to Grammar School with you.
TQ: Eleanor Roosevelt?
Elanor: (nods head approvingly)
TQ: Oh, hey.

So let me fully illustrate how insulting me forgetting Eleanor Roosevelt is.
I went to a small Catholic Grammar School.
TEN PEOPLE GRADUATING CLASS SMALL.
(By the way, let the record show I graduated first in my class)
Also, I went to this school from Kindergarten through Eighth Grade with Eleanor.
But she didn't look insulted in the least, for she used to have a crush on me.
I know this because I was invited to her 15th birthday party.
I have yet to find anybody else who was invited to that party in 1994.
It's safe to say, I went the last 15 years without thinking of Eleanor Roosevelt.
And now, I had to do nothing but think of her for the next six minutes.

Eleanor: I was just thinking of you, when I was walking my dog past your parents' house-
TQ: (interrupting) My parents don't live there anymore.
Eleanor: Oh, where?
TQ: Arlington Heights.
Eleanor: Oh, where in?
TQ: Lake Arlington
Eleanor: Oh, in one of the town homes?

ROUND THREE
Buster tells me, one of the first things Eleanor said to him during ROUND 3 is that she went to Grammar School with me.
Buster informed Eleanor that he was my friend, and wanted to know what I was like back in the day...
Buster told me she said, "He was wonderful."
He also told me that Eleanor said, "You know, I'm afraid you may stalk me - because your friend knows where I live."

So after I left the dark alley falsely disguised as memory lane with Eleanor, I looked to find Keaton - in order to find to whatever girl he just "dated."
But instead I saw Keaton sitting in the corner of the bar alone - not moving.
"Welcome to the bullpen" he says to me as I walk over.

Turns out that "Girl 7" is the end of the line, and because there are 11 guys at the event, you have to wait until the bottleneck clears up before you can talk to "Girl 1"
Keaton had just spent, in his terms "the longest six minutes of my life here with my tail between my legs." He was one fourth of his way into the bullpen experience.

Again, my position proved to be my advantage. I was able to spend this time - not alone - but talking and joking with Keaton... Six minutes later Buster would join us in the bullpen. And it was in this time period that the cocktail server came by to ask us if we wanted another drink. A cruel irony to have that attractive women talk to us at that point in the evening.

Keaton finally broke out of the bullpen to go back into the fray, and Buster and I talked with another guy newly arrived to the bullpen...
This was the most interesting person I met.
He was tall, like Barrack Obama.
He was slender, like Barrack Obama
He had a slightly darker skin tone, had short hair with a hairline like... you guessed it.
This guy, if he wanted to, could make a career as an impersonator of the man who was elected the night before to be our 44th President.
The story he told, of how he was able to get a blind date to the Grant Park Rally because he looked like Obama, was the best story of the night.

GIRL 1
The first question that Debra asked me was, "How old are you?"
I didn't think this was appropriate to ask, I certainly didn't ask her in return.
TQ: 29, will be 30 in January.
Debra: Oh, when in January?
TQ: The 24th.
Debra: Oooooh, you're an Aquarian - that's gooood.

Later I found out that Debra grew up on the East Coast - went to a school I seemingly knew more about that her, and works for a major Airline. Also, I found out that Debra did not pay for this event....

Oh yeah, I had to pay $35 to attend such a circus.

...Debra was brought in by the event's organizers because too many men had signed up. She was brought in to even out the numbers. This was a clear example of having the "B-Team" brought in to the game during a blowout.

GIRL 2
Gweneth is here with friends. She's happy to hear I'm here with friends too. She wants to know who my friends are - but I politely don't tell her.
She, in not a polite of fashion, wants me to guess who she's here with.
Because I later find out that she is an Air Traffic Controller, I don't have a hard time guessing.
Also, I should point out, that I'm noticing the intoxicating levels of alcohol being ingested by these women.
Gweneth has a difficult time connecting her lips to her wine glass on first attempt.
The only thing notable about Gweneth is her accent, she was born in England.
It's the only thing I found interesting about her... Something that was not of her control (like her drinking).

GIRL 3
I'm not going to change this girl's name, because I think it's fake.
"Dream" is the name she told me.
I bet she wanted me to say, "what was that again?" but I heard it.
I bet she also wanted me to compliment on that name's beauty or originality, but I wasn't.
Midway through our six minute semi-interview for her courtship the beautiful cocktail server interrupted us to refill her triangular shaped liquor fueling system. She (the server) was doing a lot of this - which Keaton told me later he didn't appreciate.
Personally, I could have used more of it.
I was already beginning to mentally check out of this affair. Growing more upset at the level of drunkenness at the other end of the conversation.

GIRL 4
Petria asked me 3 times in six minutes what I did for a living.
I answered truthfully everytime, but using different word choices.
My idea was to avoid the same words sparking a "oh, I already asked that" in her mind.
A potentiallly embarrassing situation.
But I think I overestimated Petria, it probably just confused her more.
This girl's best story was told to Buster one round (and another drink) after me.
I really wish I would've heard first hand how she reacted on the morning of September 11, 2001. Especially how the role of moving around her with her ex-boyfriend was involved. Supposedly, it involved someone dropping to their knees.

GIRL 5
And then we came to the end.
Sharon, I thought, was the drunkest.
Turns out, she was the dumbest.
After this event, when Keaton went to the Mens Bathroom - he saw Sharon walking in when he was walking out.
Sharon is taking courses at a local community college to be a web designer.
Sharon does not know how to work an iPod.
Sharon, when asked by me what she does for fun, said, "I have a cat.... and I walk my two dogs."
I mentioned that I like to go to concerts - asked her the last show she saw was.
Sharon said, "I saw Carrie Underwood in Peoria, do you know what Peoria is?"
I told her the next show I had tickets for was My Morning Jacket.
"What's My Morning Jacket?"

Meanwhile the organizer comes by to tell us that he's not going to blow the whistle, because this was the last round.
Yeah, if I forgot to mention it before, the organizer had a gym-class-issued whistle he's blowing every "six" minutes. (Reports vary on just how accurate his timing method was)
I was nearly visibly angry at this lack of whistle blowing. I wanted to grab it from him and blow the holy hell out of it myself.

Next to me, I see Keaton walking away from Carol, girl six, who I started my night with and now Keaton was ending. Keaton was walking away, but Carol was now ordering another drink. I was thankful I got to talk to Carol before the liquid got to her.

Finally, when the organizer asked for my "card" it was my excuse to bail on Sharon.
This card was where you wrote down who you had interest in.
The girls supposedly do the same.
Buster wrote "no" for all seven women.
Although Keaton and I were not as decisive in our summary of the night - we all hope to never see any of these characters again.

---
Was it worth it?
Honestly, I don't know.
Yes, I got a story out of it (which was my only goal).
People who I told this story to last week laughed (which made me smile).
But I feel awful for having gone through it.
Humiliated.
Exposed.

Monastic life looks better and better.

Notes from an Electing night of Television

I took Wednesday November 5 off work for two main reasons.
One of which I plan to write about later, but the other reason was due to the Presidential Election.
I didn't go to any parties, bars, rallies or "The Rally" last night. On purpose, I was by myself, with total control of the remote. I wanted to watch the gamut of the coverage, both last night and this morning. Also, if i had been at work today it would not have been a productive day. I would no doubt talk to other political conscious coworkers and "stealing time" by reading various accounts on the Internet.

I took notes throughout this process:



Yes, that's me - still in my pajamas shortly before noon.
Yes, those pajamas are in the design of the glorious flag of these United States of America.
They fit.

7 pm: Finally settle into my couch after day that began shortly after 6 am voting.
Which included a half hour wait in line (not bad)
Still got to work before 8.
Also booked quickly from my home to the barber shop.
The barber shop was needed due to the non-mentioned other reason for my day off.
My barber and I wondered how exit polls could be accurate with so much early voting nationwide.
More importantly, I got to see my parents around 6:30.
My mother was embedded into her MSNBC coverage.
She was planning on sleeping on the couch, to spare my father (not a fan of MSNBC) a night without the bedroom TV on all night.

I decide to pick up a deep dish Lou Malnatti's pizza up on my way home.
A very large step away from my 11 week long current diet, but I felt like celebrating.

Ok, now to the real notes (all times Central):
7:15 | MSNBC | Chris Matthews: "Liddy Dole may be the first to ever lose a Senate race by not talking enough."
7:29 | MTV | (some unknown kid to me with a foreign/english? accent) boasts MTV's "best coverage" before throwing it to an episode of The Hills.
7:43 | Univision | Best election night graphics in my opinion. Simple, clear, not bogged down at all.
7:45 | ESPN | Flipping on my way to another news channel when I catch Ron Artest (of my fantasy basketball team) steal a pass, yes!
7:48 | CNBC | They've got their screen split six-ways, with six nobodys in diffrent sets yelling all their opinions at once
7:50 | Fox News | Election night graphics looks like a Downtown Las Vegas Slot Machine
7:55 | NBC | Both the highest and lowest tech graphics of the night. They lock Ann Curry in a green room and superimpose video game quality graphics all round her. I'm sad they stopped just before making her "float" over the nation. Over at the ice rink in front of 30 rock they have the electoral map painted, filling in red and blue when projected. They proudly show pictures of production assistants gingerly walking over the ice trying to paint Wisconsin blue. Also, on the actual facade of 30 rock, are two window cleaning boxes - one red one blue - climbing to the top... Each dragging a red or blue banner, creating the largest bar graph of Electoral Votes projected.

Also, Chuck Todd looked awkward on NBC. This may be partly to blame on my LDTV, but his "interactive map" looked very far away, and he clearly is vastly under-experienced at working that map. CNN plays it like a classical instrument.

(I made a decision to avoid CNN this night. I get hypnotized by that map play. Zoom in, zoom out, county alpha compared with region beta, flip to the 2000 map, scroll to the 2004 map... someone prep the defibrillator paddles.)

8:10 | B.E.T. | The find of the night, in my opinion. Their election special "Be Heard" prompted me to text my friend about it's entertaining and informative quality. Yes, they had 21 year old panel member wearing an Obama / Biden t-shirt - but I welcomed that opinion. They had a token conservative on there too, along with a race-undefined woman that seemed straight out of the mental hospital. I didn't right down who the host was, I was too busy trying to avoid his constant name dropping from his days in Atlanta working for the N.A.A.C.P. This may not sound like a program endorsement, but it was unfiltered coverage. They didn't care that a vocal studio audience was showing it's bias.

It was tough to click away from this channel. In fact, I was watching B.E.T. when Ohio was called blue. And it was interpreted, correctly, as a "game over." Some on the panel recognized it was an election night faux pas to make such declarations when polling places were still open in the western states... But their manners could not stop their enthuasism.

(At this time I also received the first text message from a texter understanding the significance and finality of Ohio)

8:55 | MSNBC | I only catch the tail end of Luke Russert at a live remote from the campus of Indiana University. I wish I could've caught this, I don't know what he said. It makes me miss his Father. His white board would've had PA and OH on the left side by now, awaiting to write FL and IN to one side or the other.

(oh, i need to make sure I tape the fourth the last episode of The Shield, yet another regime that is limping to its end.)

9-9:30 | Comedy Central | Clearly these boys are better when they write and prepare - Improv is not their strength. Disappointed, I keep flipping.

9:45 | NBC | Brian Williams has a reoccurring "Brokaw Country" comedy bit going here. I heard it slightly mentioned earlier, and didn't think it was notable, but now it is. Whenever they talk about a state that Brokaw either has or had owned real estate (i.e. Montana, Nebraska) Williams uses it as a segue to get Brokaw's opinion. My biggest laugh of the night occurs later on this network:
Chuck Todd references Brokaw's "Greatest Generation" books when declaring Obama the first post-boomer president slightly then says, "But Tom doesn't want a book plug-" and Brokaw quickly says, "Oh no, go ahead" and the whole NBC crew unsuccessfully hides their laughter. Brian Williams then, before asking Brokaw's opinion casually mentions that his book is available in paperback. Later, Ann Curry (possibly upset she's been banished to a green dungeon) thanks, "our best selling author" before guiding us through more glitzy exit polls.

10 pm | ALL NETWORKS | Obama projected the 44th President of the United States

I'm amazed by how closely this resembles sports coverage. Specifically at the conclusion of a Super Bowl / NCAA Championship / World Series.
Nobody speaks.
Only crowd reaction.
Cheers and hugs.
Panning shots of the masses.
Zooming closeups of collapsed supporters.

10:10 | B.E.T. | I think these shots of Jesse Jackson are the most awkward of the night. I first saw him on B.E.T. a few minutes before his tears were visible. It was odd to see him not being paid any attention to at all. He wasn't even in the front row of the frame. It was odd for me to see him portrayed that way, but I think he was okay with it. Maybe that's what made me feel awkward. I was expecting him to try to get some spotlight for himself. Shame on me for having this bad opinion and assumption of him. The Jesse Jackson I was watching on television at this moment was not a former Presidential candidate or a famously historic activist. Maybe he was just an American. However, I know he is also the father of a U.S. Congressman - wouldn't he want to be with his son watching his results?

10:15 | Fox News | I'm not sure why I ended up here. Maybe I felt like rubbing it in a little watching this network now. Maybe I thought they wouldn't even declare Obama the winner? But their slot machine of a graphics scheme had hit the jackpot for Barrack. They bring up Karl Rove and I have to admit I liked what I heard.
Now I was told earlier that Rove predicted a landslide Obama victory. I dismissed this as a self-serving opinion. Both because he'd look stupid if he kept up the false facade of the McCain camp and because he wants to point out how a campaign that didn't involve him easily lost.
I didn't write anything down what Rove said, and this morning I'm a little bit upset at myself. All I wrote was "very refreshing in defeat."

McCain concession speech
During his speech I can't stop the thought of, "What if he was able to get his dream 8 years ago? What if he had Obama's money to contend with the W. Bush warchest of 2000?" Couldn't somebody have prepped the crowd to not "boo" Obama's name? It makes you look like jerks, makes your network of supporters look like a giant bag of douche. Seriously, are they completely without class? McCain says, "good will and honest effort to come together" in his speech. We all know that fell on deaf ears, sadly.
-Hey, Palin is there!
Just a quick widening of the frame, and she's on stage too - totally didn't see that.
Todd Palin looks like he's going to run back to Alaska and re-up his efforts on Alaska Independence.

If that's Romney standing next to McCain - McCain is thanking his supporters for their help... in victory.

Final Note: Tavis Smiley on both MSNBC and NBC
I don't really like Smiley's PBS show, but maybe I need to give it another shot now.
He had the best comment/theory of the night - speaking of the "dividend" that Obama has now. A surplus of support so to speak.

How will Obama take advantage of this surplus in America?

The last time we had such a surplus, it was in the aftermath of September 11.
A surplus many think was wasted.

What will he ask us to do?
Will anyone try to stop him? Could anyone?
Possibly the only person to stop him could be himself?
His own worst enemy if the office changes him to an extent we can not foresee?

But I don't think that's likely.
This president has something reminding him of future consequences that hasn't been in the White House for some time:
Two young daughters.
Hopefully these young daughters will be a constant reminder of what this nation needs to do for a better future.
I emphasized "young" because I realize W. Bush had daughters - but they were older (or at least drinking like they were).

I guess we'll all have to stay tuned.

Ben Folds Five - "Army" from MySpace Front To Back (TQ’s plea)

One of the first bands I saw live, and thus fell in love with, is Ben Folds Five.
They've since broken up.
Ben Folds has gone on to a somewhat successful solo career.
Friends have asked why it's not the same for me.
I don't know why...
They've said, "Isn't it just like how "Sting" by himself is the same as "The Police?"
They have a point.
But I can't agree with that.
There was something there, that is no more.
Three men together creating a sound-
-an atmosphere.

And recently MySpace got them back together for a "one time" performance.
To play their last album "front to back."
It's now online for all to watch.

Here's one song, their single from that album...
Man, why can't that start a reunion tour?

Check out this video: Ben Folds Five - "Army" from MySpace Front To Back